


demons

by hyugesoo



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cannibalism, Coming of Age, Eating Disorders, Families of Choice, Imprisonment, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24231778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyugesoo/pseuds/hyugesoo
Summary: For as long as he can remember,the dull ache of a thousand-year-old hungry demon had roamed beneath his belly.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Nara Shikamaru, Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi & Uzumaki Naruto, Kyuubi | Nine-tails | Kurama & Uzumaki Naruto, Kyuubi | Nine-tails | Kurama/Uzumaki Naruto, Nara Shikamaru & Uchiha Sasuke, Nara Shikamaru/Uzumaki Naruto, Sarutobi Hiruzen & Uzumaki Naruto, Tsunade & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 31
Kudos: 203
Collections: Absolutely favorite works





	1. where it all began

> Let them believe that you can still fight.  
> Grow your snout longer,  
> in order to scare them.  
> Blow out your hollow cheeks.
> 
> Old Achilles, Eugen Jebeleanu

The air is a crisp, cool semblance of calm before the storm.

The festival surrounds the village in a stifling warm embrace, blood-red and orange flames swaying at each corner of the street and throwing dancing shadows across the concrete. The echoes of children’s laughter, innocent and ignorant, float into the air, along with a cacophony of drums and pattering of civilian feet and chattering of civilian mouths.

The shinobi, of course, are silent and still.

After all, many of their numbers had been slaughtered five years ago on this night. Friend, family, lover, and warrior-in-arms, hundreds dead. The already unstable had become more frightening in their ugly desire for vengeance and blood, and the rest had mourned and wept on their beds, kunai in hand and anger in their hearts.

Tonight was the Kyuubi Festival, in honor of their late Yondaime Hokage, and in honor of those who had fallen before him.

And tonight was the fifth birthday of one, young little boy.

* * *

Flimsy rags could do nothing to deter the shivers wracking up his thin frame. He was always cold during this time of the year, but it was worse on this specific day. Things were just a touch more vicious, people just a touch more terrifying as the anger and hatred in their eyes seemed to glow darker. Even the matron had seemed crueler on this day, throwing him out of the orphanage as if one would with spoiled milk.

Naruto knew they hated him; even his age did not blind him from their blazing fury. He could feel it on his skin, tiny hairs prickling and raising goosebumps on his arms when their malicious intent was directed towards him. He could feel it in his veins, coursing strong and sure like the blood that people muttered was black- _like his heart and his soul and his murdering, evil hands_.

It was a constant feeling, the loathing and the animosity. When he was younger, he had wondered what he had done to make people look at him like that. He had tried asking the matron at his orphanage, only to be rebuked and mocked for pretending to be human.

And when Naruto had heard that, heard the words that he was “pretending to be human”, as if he wasn’t, it was then that Naruto had realized that everyone was right. That the whispers and the frightened, guttural mutters that seemed to follow him everywhere were right.

That he is a demon.

And five summers after the Kyuubi attack, Naruto-child finally believed the voices constantly whispering in the air and in his mind- he was the Kyuubi itself.

He stays away from the festival that night, keeping to the shadows and hiding behind dumpsters of things people had thrown away. He thinks it is fitting, as the world had deemed him unworthy to be human and had thrown him away as well. Surrounded by the rancid stench of rotting food, Naruto wonders why he had been chosen to be the Kyuubi. Wonders why it was him, and not someone else, so he watches others to see the differences between them.

He watches, through the tiny slivers of light shining from the moon and the glowing red hot fire from the lantern just outside of the damp alleyway. He watches civilian men, their large hands splayed across their thighs as they walked briskly, mouths twisted downwards. He watches civilian women, their long, shimmering hair delicately twisted around their nape as the flush of subtle makeup turns them into ethereal faeries for the night. He watches civilian children, their wooden sandals tapping out irregular beats as they shouted and shoved each other playfully in the streets filled with food stalls.

And his baby blue eyes watch the shinobi, a constantly shifting mass of black and dark blue green, their movements and their expressions so similar that if Naruto squints he can almost imagine them melting together to form one entity.

Naruto likes watching the shinobi of the village. The smooth way they walked, like predators stalking their next prey, the carefully concealed killing intent that seeped from their pores, the madness hidden behind their nigh unreadable eyes- he loves them all. He knows that they are the elite, the respected and the feared. He knows that they are the best in the village, as the other orphans had always said.

The other children wanted to be shinobi  
for the glory, because shinobi were praised for their services,  
for the gold, because shinobi saw much more money on their hands than a civilian ever would,  
for the companionship, because shinobi were comrades, forging bonds with their fellows and a shinobi of the Leaf could always count on shinobi of the Leaf and as orphans thrown away by their families, whether dead or alive, those types of bonds were desperately sought out after.

Naruto wants to be a shinobi, but because as the Kyuubi he thinks that he needs to kill humans to warm the frigid longing just under his skin.

Everyone knew that the Kyuubi was a monster, a demon who had thrived and laughed himself hoarse as a single tail had devastated half of the village. Naruto wonders if that is why he couldn’t smile or laugh; he couldn’t, because he had never felt someone else’s blood on his icy flesh. He wonders if that is why he can feel others’ animosity, because Naruto had overheard some adults talking about how the Kyuubi was a malevolent creature of hate. He had had to sneak into the library that night to search for a dictionary, unable to understand the word with his young mind.

And in the dark of the night, surrounded by old scrolls and hardbound books, Naruto realized that malevolent meant evil and spiteful, deriving joy from suffering.

He had thought that that didn’t seem very nice at first, but after the third time he dragged himself back to the orphanage, legs and fingers and face slowly knitting themselves back together after a run-in with some drunk people, Naruto thinks he doesn’t really care about _nice_.

He wonders, wonders if he wasn’t the Kyuubi, if he could avoid all this suffering, if he could play and smile and laugh like the civilian children like a human. He wonders what would he be if he wasn’t the Kyuubi, if he would still be a demon or if he would be a human. Soft chuckles reverberate disjointedly in the back of mind, wrapping around him as one would with a lover.

Naruto doesn’t know, and he decides he doesn’t like thinking about what-ifs. After all, a demon is a lot stronger than a human.

* * *

When he returns to the orphanage the next day, it is breakfast time. He barely has time to sigh at his unfortunate timing when he catches the matron’s eye when he walks in, and her obsidian eyes narrow at him.

Their routine is simple, at this point. A hand grips his tangled blond hair tightly, forcing him to follow the woman to a corner of the dining hall. The rest of the orphans barely glance up at the scene, their hands shoveling as much food as they can into their tiny mouths as if it would be their very last meal. And to be fair, in a run-down orphanage such as theirs, it could very well be.

It makes Naruto sick, and his stomach churns uneasily at the thought of digesting food.

At the age of five, Naruto had only eaten three times.

These three times were the only times that he had not regurgitated the food immediately, allowing it to settle in his belly and spread to the rest of his body.

The first time was when he had been two, and it had been the first solid food he had been fed. The Hokage had been by that morning, softly warning the matron to take care of the boy or face the consequences. Soggy, moldy porridge had been shoved down his throat that night, the matron barely giving the boy time to breathe or swallow in her anger. Spoon after spoon attacked his gasping mouth, and Naruto had begged and begged for it to stop. He had swallowed as much as he could in order to breathe, fighting the bile and blood rushing up his throat to meet the next spoonful of rancid porridge. When the bowl was finished, the matron had taken one look at his saliva- and rice-covered chin and clothes and backhanded the boy for making a mess.

The second time was when he was two and a half; it had taken the matron half a year before she had been able to grab and wrestle him into submission long enough to eat. When he had refused to open his mouth, she had punched him with all the fury of a woman until he had been lying on the floor, bones broken and nose bleeding. She had then proceeded to dig her sharp elbows into his gut like knives, prompting him to gasp at the overwhelming pain. Naruto’s second meal was lumpy, soot-covered bread. The piece was large, larger than Naruto’s throat capacity, and he had choked and nearly coughed his stomach and lungs out that night.

The third time was when he had been a month before he turned four; Naruto had always disappeared during meal times quickly enough but he had been sick, bedridden. The Hokage had visited briefly that afternoon, old, callused fingers stroking his sweat-stained forehead. The matron had watched from her post by the door, eyes burning. That lunch, she had secured him to the bed and covered his nose. She had been patient, smiling gently as the boy beneath her slowly suffocated. When Naruto had involuntarily parted his cracked lips to take a needed breath, rice had been poured into his throat quickly.

Early on, Naruto realized he did not need to eat; he had no need for food of humans. He is the Kyuubi, a demon. The dull ache in his belly is not of hunger. His chakra is strong enough to drown out any fear of starvation, and Naruto had never felt the human pain of ravenousness.

The words _malevolent_ and _demon_ flashes behind his closed eyes, like neon signs attracting wayward travelers, and he feels a surge of emotion rise up in him. It is fire, licking up his toes and roaring in his head. It is a great wave of molten lava, and for the first time, Naruto feels angry.

He had read more about the Kyuubi that night he had searched for meanings in the library, and he had been awed at the power the nine tails possessed. He had stars in his eyes the rest of the night, hope and greed warring desperately in his tiny chest. A never-ending pit of chakra, condensed and flowing erratically in his veins, is inside his small body, waiting for the right moment to burst out and _maim_.

Naruto is the Kyuubi, and the Kyuubi is him- he would never let this woman, this mortal, hurt him ever again.

No one would ever hurt him again.

And as easily as a storm battered the trees, Naruto breaks the hand of the matron.

The Kyuubi does not need to eat human food, but he will have her blood. And for the first time, Naruto laughs.

(There is gleeful decay echoing inside his skull, spurring him on as he opens his mouth as wide as he can and _bites_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. This is my first work here, so please be gentle with me (lol). I had a vague idea at the start for this, but it kinda got away from me, haha.
> 
> Also, I messed around with the timeline and ages of the characters.  
> Here, the rookie nine are three years older than Naruto.  
> So the Uchiha Massacre happened when Sasuke was nine, and Naruto was six.  
> And the Sandaime was reinstated as Hokage three years later than canon, which would probably explain a lot (if you squint).
> 
> That’s about it. Enjoy the mindfuckery!


	2. of bone and claws

> In this human skin  
> I am half war  
> half peace.
> 
> Noor Unnahar

_Eat, my child, eat eat eat eat and feast on their weak bones._

He comes to when it is night.

The voices in his head are finally silent, and the giddy red haze of rage he had felt earlier that morning has faded. Idly, he wipes his mouth, but ends up smearing more blood against his face. He pulls his hand back to look at the red streaks curiously. The blood has dried, a dark, muddy brown red.

Around him, the stench of body fluids and death decays, cloisters, and burns.

Slowly, he stands, walking closer to the window, the leg of the matron gripped absentmindedly in his other hand. A treasure, a keepsake, a trophy, a triumph.

Bones and half-chewed flesh crunch and squelch under his feet.

When he reaches the window, he sees the Hokage standing at the gate of the orphanage, Anbu decorating the surrounding area. The old man looks at him, and their eyes meet.

Naruto cock his head, and a sad smile spreads the Hokage’s lips.

The Hokage walks.

He enters the building, eyes flickering to the bodies Naruto had feasted on, before firmly looking straight into Naruto’s red blue red eyes. Unheeding of the blood seeping into his robes, he walks closer to Naruto and offers his hand, palm up.

Naruto looks at it curiously, teeth still sharp and hunger barely sated.

“Come, Naruto, let me take you away,” the man says softly, steadily.

Naruto looks at him, and thinks about the gentle warmth of his hand when Naruto had been bedridden with sick. He looks around, at the blood splattered on the walls and the mangled half face of one of the children who had looked at him with such fear. He looks outside the window, at the Anbu gripping their tanto and snarling white masks gleaming with promise. Naruto looks, and looks.

And with a near inaudible sigh, he drops the leg that is more bone than flesh, ignoring the tensing of the Anbu at the sound, before talking the Hokage’s hand.

The Hokage is quick to act. He ushers him to a secluded place at the other end of the village. He carries him in his wrinkled arms, his footsteps as silent as the grave as he jumps from roof to roof.

Naruto is as quiet as the Anbu shadowing them, the blood on his fingers cracking and crinkling as he plays with the man’s pristine white robes. Darkened fingerprints slowly form on the cloth. Naruto decides he quite likes color better than innocent white.

They land on soft grass, and he observes the surroundings. They are in a clearing, a woodland respite with a softly babbling river next to a traditional house. The dull shine of wood against the moonlight tells Naruto that the house is new, and he idly wonders how long the Hokage had been planning on bringing him here. Blue red blue eyes eat up the sight of the house, and more.

There is chakra, buzzing in the background of the otherwise quiet place, and Naruto wonders if these were the seals he had read about in passing. He spots the small markers scattered around the perimeter, and knows that if he walked around the building in a circle he would find more of the same. It is not hard to guess what their purpose is.

“Naruto,” the Hokage murmurs gently, the first word he had spoken since he had arrived at the orphanage to spirit him away, “this is your new home.”

Blue eyes watch the man’s tired face, before he reaches up and strokes wizened paper-thin cheeks. The man is strong; Naruto can feel the chakra and life force in him, pressing tightly against the insides of his body as if dying to get out. Naruto is not sure if he could kill the man, but he has no need to.

The man had never felt any anger or hatred towards the boy, and Naruto revels in the feeling of acceptance in the man, even after the man had walked into the orphanage earlier and seen the half-eaten leg of the matron hanging limply from Naruto’s fingers.

The Hokage is the only one Naruto will not kill, he thinks, and he pats the old flesh under his red fingers.

Besides, weary flesh seemed like it tasted bitter with age.

Brown eyes lose their exhausted tinge and soften at Naruto’s attempted comforting touch. He walks them both forward, into the house, and sets Naruto on the counter in the bathroom. The man fills up the bathtub and gently relieves the boy of his filthy clothing and starts washing the boy.

Naruto is silent as the man scrubs gently at his mouth, watching the clear bath water quickly turn pink as the blood is washed off.

“Naruto, why did you do it?”

The whispered question is so soft Naruto almost doesn’t hear it over the splash of water against skin. He turns his head and looks at the man, his Hokage robes dirtied by Naruto and sleeves rolled up to his biceps as his fingers continue to shampoo his blond hair. The man looks ancient then.

“She hurt me,” he replies, honestly. It is the truth, and he will kill those who did until no one can even think of inflicting pain on him.

The great Kyuubi will never allow anyone to hurt him again.

Anger, flint and steel, sparks in the man’s brown eyes. It startles Naruto before he realizes that it was not directed at him. Naruto inhales and leans closer imperceptibly, eyes closing half way as a pleasant wave of heat blankets his skin. The voice in his head growls lightly in happiness, conflicting nicely with the sudden whispers in the air of fury. He wonders if it has anything to do with the man’s anger, and Naruto hums silently in curiosity.

“You poor child,” he murmurs, his fingers trembling in rage at his inability to protect the child and not noticing the look on Naruto’s face.

Naruto shrugs, unconcerned, before replying, “She’ll never hurt me again.”

A sigh leaves the man’s chest at his words, deep and troubled, before the man lifts his body up and dries his fresh skin. The voices, both in the air and in his mind, fade quietly as the Hokage gains control of his scorching anger, and Naruto sighs.

The Hokage carries him carefully to the bedroom, where he sets Naruto on his feet before the closet. The man dresses him, gently nudging him to slip his slender arms through the armholes of a soft kimono. A paper-thin red obi is swiftly tied around his waist, cinching the outfit closed.

The kimono is in the palest shade of blue with red flowers creeping up the edges, and Naruto takes a moment to appreciate his new clothes. He has never worn anything so exquisite before, and a pleased hum rattles against his chest.

There is a whisper just behind his eyes, murmuring _beautiful_ , and Naruto startles.

He has been hearing voices in his head for as long as he can remember; they pollute the air around him with their slurred and burning anger. This voice however, is the first to speak without rage, without a curse, without a prayer for his death.

A compliment, he realizes, staring at the slightest tinge of red around his pupils, and blinks at his reflection. The Hokage smiles helplessly behind him, and smooths the thin obi by his waist.

“I did not have the time to purchase you some pajamas, but this seems to fit you well. I know that boys prefer darker colors, but you do look lovely in this shade,” he explains tentatively, before trailing his old fingers over blonde hair like fine silk. “Do you like it?”

Naruto stares at his image, starving. He has spent days looking for himself in the opal reflections in rivers, broken mirrors, and glass he had scrounged up when he was younger, always searching and searching for the demon beneath his skin.

 _Beautiful_ , the voice in his head had whispered, and a small hand rises to finger the collar of his new clothes. _Lovely_ , the man had said. He twists his head slightly, letting his hair shift and cover his eyes partially like a golden veil, and nods.

He does not look like a boy who had just eaten other boys and girls.

Dark laughter bubbles and boils, sizzling and hot, in his ears and Naruto feels grim satisfaction. He does not need to look ugly to be a demon, and a fox can be both gorgeous and deadly.

“Yes,” he replies decisively after a long pause, and lets his fingers fall.

Freshly fed, bathed, and dressed, he then extracts himself from the Hokage and walks curiously around his new house.

It is large for one person, and the wood of the engawa feels cool to his bare feet. The Hokage trails silently behind him as he peers into his bedroom, then wanders into the living room attached to the kitchen. The furniture emits a scent of the newly bought. Diamond eyes notes the entrances and exits, the crawling black ink of seals on them, and hums.

“Don’t worry child, I’ll take care of everything. You are safe now,” the man says slowly, as if the words hurt to get out, and Naruto looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

He had felt the wards snap in place as soon as he had crossed the threshold, latching on to his chakra and subtly binding him to the seals. He could not get out of this clearing, out of the boundaries of the seals, but at least only he and the Hokage could enter the place. Containment, for as long as the Hokage wished.

Naruto had read that the Kyuubi was an amalgamation of fox and god; it went wherever it wanted and did whatever it pleased. Naruto knows he is the Kyuubi now, and while others might think that he would go and murder as he wished, all he had wanted as a child was to grow and be left alone.

In the village, putrid hate and vile whispers clouded up his senses, dulling his limbs and scarring his ears. Here, in this clearing, everything is silent.

Softly, a growl echoes in the back of his head, and Naruto sighs happily. He can be a shinobi when he is bigger, and be the great Kyuubi once more. When he is bigger, he can bathe in the blood of others and revel in it, but for now... Naruto looks at his small kingdom, and thinks, _this is enough_.

He glances up at the man and tries to pull the corner of his lips up in an attempt of a smile.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he says, to reassure the man who had been nothing but kind to him, and he watches the man slump in realization that the boy knew this was a prison. And after a moment of weakness, Hiruzen touches his scarred cheeks and is gone.

* * *

The voices in the air fade, secluded as he is, but the voice in his head merely grows stronger. He learns to meditate. He learns to breathe slow and easy that it sends him into a heady state of unconsciousness. When he is floating in that headspace between awake and sleep, the voice growls, gently and angrily, pacing and pacing and pacing in the confines of his mind. It tells him things.

Naruto is smart enough not to believe that everything the voice says is the truth.

He replies to the voice though, because he is alone and the voice eases between fury and softness and it fascinates him. The voice mocks him for his imprisonment but mourns the loss of his freedom. The voice yells at him for his stupidity when he merely lies on the grass, content and unwilling to tear himself out through the seals, but whispers quiet moans of understanding when Naruto questions the voice’s unwillingness to leave him alone. The voice is fraught with contradictions and Naruto wonders if he has become insane.

The voice laughs at him when he thinks that, and a curious sensation of sharp teeth and fervent claws caress his cheek. Naruto thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

After the first week, he cocoons himself in unconsciousness and focuses on the voice.

“Are you the Kyuubi?” he finally asks, pale golden fingers gently touching the cheek that still burned.

Laughter echoes.

“Figured that one on your own, have you?” the Kyuubi mocks, delight and impatience warring in the tone. Naruto breathes deeply, allowing his body to sink even further into unconsciousness, farther than he’s ever gone before. He is rewarded with the sight of a monster, of the demon living in his mind.

Naruto feels disappointment seething in his veins, all him and not the Kyuubi, and he spares a thought for the loss of his supposed chakra and power. No, Naruto is not the Kyuubi.

The laughter grows stronger.

“You’re a funny one, I’ll give you that,” the Kyuubi finally says, thunder and glee rumbling in the back of its throat.

“If I’m not the Kyuubi, what am I then?” Naruto ignores the comment, running straight to the issue at hand. He sighs unhappily.

Red eyes lower, the Kyuubi folding its gigantic limbs and sprawling in front of him. The eyes are considering, and Naruto wonders how primordial the Kyuubi really is to gain that glint of aged wisdom.

“Tell me, my Naruto,” the boy leans closer, watching those sharp teeth lovingly form around the tender endearment, “have you heard of human sacrifices?”

* * *

The years pass quickly, jadedly. There is little for Naruto to do in the small house, and he spends the days walking, pacing, from the bedroom to the living room to the kitchen to bedroom. On days when he is tired of listening to his bare feet on the engawa, he reads the scrolls and books that the Hokage gifts to him and practices molding his unlimited chakra.

The Kyuubi whispers to him as he learns, and he listens easily with his head cocked. There, in the back of his house between the thick trees and under the filtered sunlight, he follows the gruff suggestions from the bijuu and _blooms_.

He masters how to walk on trees, the pale blue silk of his kimono fluttering behind him as he twirls and jumps idly from branch to branch. He understands how to balance himself on water, to walk above the fish swimming in the river beside his house. He learns how to slice a man’s jugular vein with small blades, carelessly killing the clones he learned to make. He discovers himself, the red chakra of the Kyuubi creeping over his skin like molten lava- an armor and a weapon.

He spends his time studying and walking, quiet and patient.

As the Kyuubi is immortal, and as its Jinchuuriki, Naruto has forever and a day to live, so he waits patiently.

(“If I’m not the Kyuubi, does that mean I’m mortal? Will I die soon?” he asks one day, mouth twisted with bitterness and memories of his skin broken and bruised.

The fox watches, and grins.

“You will never die, not if I wish it. You will live, my Naruto, and we will triumph over everyone,” it says, and Naruto bows his head in everlasting gratitude.

He may not be the Kyuubi, but the Kyuubi is with him, every waking second. Together, nothing and no one will ever hurt them again.)

* * *

The Hokage visits every night, bringing gifts as one would bring offerings to a deity. Naruto wonders if that is how the man sees him, wonders if the man sees a god or a demon leisurely sprawling and basking in the sun and quiet of the small clearing, biding his time before he is able to leave. There is a flash of something that Naruto doesn’t understand in the man’s eyes whenever he looks at him, but as Naruto can sense no malicious intent he lets it be.

Naruto doesn’t voice his thoughts, doesn’t complain, instead he savors the gifts because the man is the only one who has ever been kind to him. No one else had given him things, and that makes all the difference to the young Naruto-child.

The gifts are different every night, from books on chakra to special, tri-pronged kunai- your _father’s_ , the Kyuubi whispers against his throat- to soft blue, yellow, lavender, red kimonos and even softer hugs. The aging man is the only one who had ever touched the boy with gentle fingers, and Naruto becomes accustomed to the way the man would carefully comb his hair and wrap his arms around his waist.

If Naruto was not the Jinchuuriki and if his own flesh and blood had not condemned him, he thinks that the Hokage could have been his father.

He tries out the word when the man leaves, his tongue curling around the letters- _otou – san_ – as if they were priceless gems and him a thief. It is a curious thought, and he swallows the words whole without letting them drip out of the corner of his lips. The Kyuubi watches him as he struggles with the unfamiliar emotion, tails flicking lazily behind it and eyes red as heated blood.

The Hokage doesn’t force Naruto to eat, had not pressed the boy after Naruto had told him of what the matron had done. The man had gone white with fury when he had heard of the abuse, and timeworn fingers had twitched to pull the small boy into his protective embrace.

 _Otou-san_ , Naruto had thought then, resting his head on the man’s chest as the ancient emotion of anger had threatened to topple the man who prided himself for his gentleness. A horrible mockery of a smile had pulled his lips apart as he basked in the man’s ire and the pleasant whispers ruffling his skin. He had found that anger and negative emotions, when not directed at him, had a hedonistic, pleasurable effect on him, and he had sighed happily.

(“What are those voices I hear? Am I insane?” he asks one day, while he swings back and forth on top of the small ripples in the river.

Sweltering heat curls roughly around his wrists, fur brushing against his sides.

“No, my sweet child,” the fox replies, “you are not. Your mother held me within her belly before you were born-”

He startles at that, his chakra fumbling and creating large waves in the water. Easily, the Kyuubi rattles him.

“My... mother was like... me?” he questions haltingly, heart thudding. The thought burns and rankles, frustrating him without reason. He thinks of fox tails, wrapped around some nameless woman- _his mother_ \- and his blood boils. Red black eyes watch him, and the Kyuubi bares its teeth.

“You are nothing like your mother. You are so much more, my Naruto.”

The words are harsh, bitten and spat out like something rancid.

Naruto stills, and the ache in his chest eases like it was never there.

An exasperated huff escapes fine sharp teeth and the Kyuubi shakes its head.

“You are nothing like her,” it repeats more calmly, “but she carried you in her womb for nine months. She chained me, gagged me, leaving me unable to see the surface, but you, you were mine from the very first day of your conception. You grew in her womb and bathed in my chakra, breathing it in and taking it in your blood.

When your father attempted to chain me within you, to imprison me with this godforsaken seal, it was too late. From the tips of your toes and curve of your nape, we were already one, and you were already mine. Mine, as you have been since the very beginning.”

The Kyuubi’s voice softens as it looks at Naruto, standing dazed.

“Being exposed to my chakra from the very start changed you, made you better and more,” it continues, and claws rake through blonde hair gently. “Those voices you hear are the negative thoughts and emotions of mortals, the anger and despair they hold.”

The Kyuubi had explained. It told him that as Jinchuuriki, demon blood flowed in him and changed him. It gave him ears to hear the rage of others, and the fine appreciation for that fury. Amongst other things, the Kyuubi had chuckled, savoring those blue eyes so fearless and eager trained on it.)

Hiruzen had conducted some tests after his lapse in emotion, and had found that the blood red chakra of Kyuubi had all but consumed Naruto’s stomach. Even if the boy were to never eat again, he would still live and be strong. It troubled him, but he didn’t say anything to the boy.

Blue red eyes had watched him, eerie and knowing, and the subject had been dropped.

* * *

The Hokage brings him different types of footwear once he realizes how much Naruto likes wearing the silky soft fabric of an expensive kimono. The first type he brings is a hiyori geta, the same type he had seen the civilians wear during the festival on his fifth birthday, the night before the massacre. Immediately, his mouth tastes like blood and ash, and the Hokage takes one look at his face and tugs it out of his stiff fingers.

He brings a pokkuri geta next, and Naruto gently shakes it to hear the bells inside tinkling. Beside him, the Hokage closes his eyes as they listen to the soft chiming of bells filling the empty room.

“The Uzumaki, your clan,” the Hokage begins, voice heavy with the weight of sins past, “were particularly fond of bells. They wore earrings and hair clips with them, and some would attach bells to the ends of their sleeves. When I asked why, they said it reminded them of the sea.”

Naruto hums. He remembers the anger, the bitter shame saturating the Kyuubi’s words when it talked about his mother, its jailer. He remembers, and he feels the same red haze in his blood he had the night he massacred and eviscerated. He remembers red hair, violet eyes, and searingly cold chakra chains, and his fingers curls into claws.

He angers. The geta splinters between his fingers, and he opens his fist to let wood and steel fall to the ground. He has no need for a mother who wrapped and subjugated Kurama with chains, for a clan who built their legacy on the blood of the bijuus.

The Hokage sighs, before ruffling his hair.

The next night, he brings a tengu geta, and Naruto curiously examines the single heel in the middle of the footwear.

“How do you walk in them?” he murmurs his question, unwilling to break the easy silence between them. The fire flickers softly as well, illuminating the blues of his eyes. The Hokage smiles, less burdened than the night before, and taps a wizened finger against his stomach.

“Like the wind that blows through these trees, through strength and balance,” he says, before shaking his head and smiling a secretive smile.

(There is a harsh laugh behind his ears, and he turns to see the Kyuubi snarling.

“That man has an irritating sense of humor, my Naruto,” it spits, eyes roaring and drowning. “It is called tengu geta, from the demons that wear them. A tengu demon,” the Kyuubi snorts, turning away and muttering about how bijuus are infinitely more powerful than a silly wind spirit of the forest.)

Perking up, Naruto examines the geta more closely, and curls his fingers possessively around them. He may not be the Kyuubi anymore, but he is still a Jinchuuriki. A human sacrifice need not remain human, he thinks, and slips the geta easily on his feet.

* * *

The Kyuubi talks to him day after day, voice brushing against his sides with a gentleness Naruto would not expect.

Naruto does not complain however, and when he tires of balancing on his tengu geta and practicing his jutsus and katas, he fades back into his subconscious. It takes him but a second of hesitation before he buries himself in that heated fur, garnering a grunt of surprise from the fox.

“What are you doing, my Naruto?” it asks, gruff and angry and ten shades soft.

Cloudless-sky eyes peek from under long golden lashes and his fingers reach up to rub the underside of the Kyuubi’s chin.

“I thought I was the Kyuubi, but I’m just Naruto. And Naruto is your sacrifice, so the way I see it is I’m yours and you’re mine,” he murmurs, before tilting his head to the side. “Aren’t I right?”

Red eyes watch the small body, with the beauty of the sun and oceans deep, clad in one of the silky kimono he had started wearing after his imprisonment. The Kyuubi feels laughter crystallize in its belly and, for the first time in centuries, feels fondness towards another.

It curls its tails tightly around the pretty boy and sniffs his sweet scent.

“Call me Kurama, my Naruto.”

Naruto looks up and smiles, dropping a kiss on its nose before sighing in pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. I am very much obsessed with symbolism, so I thought I'd take this time to explain certain japanese things I mentioned in the chapter.
> 
> The clothes that Naruto has are all kimonos. And while I know that the type of kimono Naruto is wearing is usually for girls, I didn't really want him wearing the standard kimono top and hakama pants that males wear. I wanted to go for a more feminine style. So think of a yukata, but made of silk instead of the usual cotton, and the obi tied around the waist (kind of like a bathrobe sash ^^) rather than by the hips which is more common for yukatas. His favorite kimono to wear is the pale blue ones, because my Naruto did not aim to be seen or noticed by the villagers, so no kill-me-orange. Also, blue kimonos represent the natural world, such as the sky and ocean. My Naruto loves nature!
> 
> The type of footwear I mentioned, such as the hiyori, pokkuri, and tengu geta, is v interesting (at least for me ^^). In the Naruto-verse, shinobi usually prefer the standard shinobi sandals, but I think they don't suit my characterization of Naruto, so I picked another type of footwear. The hiyori geta is the common one worn during festivals etc., while the pokkuri geta is usually worn by shrine maidens. My favorite one is the tengu geta, which has a really cool backstory. It's called tengu geta because tengu demons were depicted wearing them back in the day. Tengu demons used to be thought of as evil since they abducted and tricked humans and pretty much either ate or possessed them, but then people started thinking of them as protectors and guardians of the mountains. They're also really good with swords and wind, and sometimes they were said to carry around fans which they used to cause natural disasters and large winds. I found this super cool, so of course I had to include it!
> 
> Anyways, that's all for today, some world-building, some growing up, some chill vibing for Naruto. 
> 
> Next chapter Naruto meets the gang! ^^


	3. nothing to lose, nothing to gain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: cannibalism! if this makes you squeamish, I'll place a 「」 to warn you where it starts and ends.

> i am mine  
> before i am everyone else's.
> 
> Nejma, Nayyirah Waheed

One night is different from the others, and Naruto immediately realizes it as the Hokage walks in the front door with an exhausted look on his ancient face. The man had not had that expression since Naruto had eaten the matron and the other children in the orphanage, and Naruto thinks that things are about to change drastically once again.

The man sees curiosity and vague understanding on the boy’s face, and he sighs. He reaches for the boy he sees as his son and holds him.

“There was a meeting today, with the council and the daimyo. You have turned nine today, and have reached the required age to join the Shinobi Academy. Since you have been studying and practicing here, instead of starting classes with those your age, it has been decided that you will join classes with the batch graduating in a year,” Hiruzen says, straight to the point and as honest as he had always been. Naruto admires that about him, and nods.

“I want to be a shinobi,” he replies clearly, thinks of blood and the lust for death prowling in his belly, and watches as the man ages a thousand years at his statement.

“I cannot protect you out there,” Hiruzen whispers, and his fingers spasm against Naruto’s cheek. The words are resigned and tired, as if he knows exactly what Naruto was thinking. Because he knows the words are a farce. Naruto doesn’t need protection.

Four years in seclusion has calmed the boy, has given him some measure of peace from the mistrust and the malice of humans, but the Hokage knows that there is a demon hidden underneath Naruto’s thin flesh. He didn’t need to worry about the boy, should even be worried about the boy’s enemies, but he worries anyways.

The folly of fathers and men, the old man thinks, and buries his face in Naruto’s long hair.

Naruto knows there is no need to reply to the man’s words, but he knows that the man needs to hear them anyway.

“I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt me,” he answers dutifully, earnestly. The Hokage frowns a little at the boy’s easy disregard for human life, but the worry in him eases at the reply. He nods and tightens his grip around the boy’s waist, before smiling sadly.

“Happy birthday, Naruto. Konoha will be ever so grateful for your sacrifice,” the man says quietly, weighed by the lives lost and gone.

Naruto looks up, looks at the feverish eyes of the Kyuubi hungrily boring into him, like he is the most precious thing in the world, and smiles.

* * *

The world outside is loud; Naruto has forgotten the noise and bustling of humans after four years of silence. It throws him for a loop at first, startles him so much that the sound of his wooden geta against the stone road falters at the edge of the village center. Hiruzen pauses as well, brown eyes falling to look at his frozen frame before his palm comes to rest between the silk over Naruto’s shoulders.

Naruto inhales, accustoming himself to the vastly different environment before nodding at the taller male beside him. They resume their walk towards the academy without much fanfare, and Naruto keeps quiet about the increase of malice and fury when people spot him.

Their hatred for him had not diminished. In fact, it had grown even stronger. When they had not seen his blond hair and his whiskered cheeks for four long years, they had thought that the Kyuubi had died somewhere and had rejoiced. But with his reappearance, clad in a refined blood red kimono with silken hair brushing his cheeks, old grudges has resurfaced and the fire has been rekindled, resentment brewing.

They did not act upon their animosity though, for the Hokage was beside him.

Naruto wonders if they would attack him when the Hokage leaves, and bares his teeth at the thought of killing them. The angry voices twirling lazily around his body gain a frantic edge of fear at the sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the people physically flinch away from his sharp teeth and pleased blue eyes, and Hiruzen tightens his wizened fingers’ grip on his shoulder as a subtle chastisement.

They reach the academy in time, and Naruto watches the white walls reflect the sun momentarily. With something like curious excitement, he bids a soft farewell to the man before entering.

The inside of the classroom is as noisy as the outside, with children squealing and running up and down the aisles. Naruto likens them to the civilian children he had seen during the Kyuubi festival, and a frown mars his smooth face. He had thought that shinobi were quiet and calm, their muscles in a tensed relaxation for any and all attempts of an attack.

These children are not shinobi.

Naruto wrinkles his nose at the distinction and feels the emotion in him die quickly.

The room had quieted momentarily at his entrance, curious eyes observing his silent frame. He sees them whisper to each other, and catches a mocking question about his choice of wear. With a sparingly quick look, he realizes everyone is dressed in shorts or pants, presumably for shinobi exercises.

(A laugh comes from the Kyuubi, its head perched gently on his shoulder. Naruto holds back a smile; his clothes will not disrupt his movement.)

Naruto realizes another thing, as more and more eyes watch him without hatred- they did not know him, as he had not been seen for four years. Their parents had not bothered to tell them to stay away from the demon, as the parents had thought he had been spirited away or left for dead somewhere outside their small bubble of security and safety.

Fools.

His steel blue eyes survey the seats, before easily pinpointing the most defensible one. If asked, Naruto would prefer to attack rather than defend, the Kyuubi snarling and prowling in his chest like a wild animal at the thought. However, with children like these, Naruto knows a single, careless strike from him could rob them of their futures.

He walks to the bench at the back corner, his muscles tensing and releasing smoothly every time his body moves. He had watched the Anbu walk and run whenever they accompanied the Hokage to his house, and he had watched the Hokage carry himself, dignified and confident in his might. He had changed his walk of movement, perfected it even with the single heel on his geta, and it shows in the way he made his way across the classroom like a gentle breeze with the force of a thousand typhoons waiting in the wings.

Blue eyes meet obsidian, and Naruto tilts his head at the boy occupying the seat he wanted. It is easily the best position in the classroom, with his back to the wall and every entrance in his line of sight. Naruto wonders if that is why the boy had chosen the seat, and sighs.

“Move,” he tells the boy, feels the sharp intake of breath of his other classmates as he ordered the other boy. He wonders if they did fear him, before realizing that it isn’t he they feared. Curious, Naruto thinks, observing the rise of indignant anger in the other boy.

Whispers rustle behind his back, so much like the leaves trembling under the force of a breeze in the trees surrounding his house, and Naruto quirks up an eyebrow at the content of those muttered conversations.

_“He ordered Senju Sasuke around!”_

_“Who does he think he is?”_

_“He’s gonna get it now!”_

_“Ooh, Sasuke-sama’s gonna beat that idiot!”_

The air sharpens into a bloodthirsty knife, and Naruto almost cuts his lip on his waiting teeth as a quick smile flashes across his face. He silently urges the other boy to attack, goading him with his ice blue eyes, because it has been so long since he had felt blood cooling on his flesh.

The other boy stands abruptly, night-black eyes turning as red as the flush of irritation covering his neck, and Naruto finds himself looking into Sharingan red.

Uchiha, he realizes, and he thinks back to almost four years ago when the Hokage had come, the tips of his Hokage robes dripping in wine-red and the tips of his eyes crinkled in frustration. There had been a mass murder of the Uchiha that night, with only a boy close to his age surviving from the brutal slaughtering of his insane brother.

The Kyuubi had perked up at the mention of genocide of its most hated clan, and Naruto had fallen asleep that night smiling at the thought of dripping blood. When the Hokage had seen the boy’s interest on the topic, he had casually kept Naruto in the loop and divulged updates on the matter.

After all, it was rare for Naruto to show interest in humans, and the Hokage knew that.

The boy- Sasuke- had then been adopted by the legendary Senju Tsunade, hailed medic-nin and one of the Densetsu no Sannin. Raised gently and with the power of the woman who could crush boulders with a single finger, Sasuke had grown to be a strong boy, just like his mother.

Unfortunately, his mother’s strength wasn’t the only thing the boy had inherited.

When the fist begins to fly towards Naruto’s face, he sighs at the boy’s temper, which is so much like his famed mother’s, and grips the hand firmly. With a halfhearted attempt like that, no matter how strong Sasuke is, he will never be able to touch Naruto.

And so, Naruto crushes the twenty-seven bones in the boy’s hand and kicks him away. A sharp grunt escapes the boy’s chest and silence coats the four walls of the classroom as Naruto bends to grip the small throat.

(“Kill the boy,” Kyuubi murmurs happily, its sharp claws ghostly wrapping around Naruto’s hand and gently tightening it around a frail throat.

Already, Naruto can feel the prickly red haze consuming his breath and filling his mouth with _hunger_.)

There is fear now, and anger, festering in his classmate’s hearts and thoughts, poisoning them against him and ensuring that they will never want to work with him. Naruto can’t care less, as he has no need for companionship. He has the Kyuubi, and the Jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi needs no mortals to watch his back.

The teacher enters then, takes in the sight of Senju Sasuke held by the throat and his hand mangled and broken, and glares immediately at the blonde boy. He doesn’t need to ask what happened and he quickly snaps at the demon to unhand the other boy. When Naruto hesitates, fingers digging into the soft flesh of the choking boy’s throat, the teacher subtly grips his kunai and whispers a prayer as he prepares to fight with the demon.

He wonders if he would finally join his parents nine years later in the afterlife that day, killed by the same demon that had killed them, when a flash of teeth grasps his attention. A smile filled with malice, as if the deaths of all his victims had spread his mouth until he could not eat anymore, plays on Naruto’s lips before he drops the boy.

The teacher quickly sends a summon to the Hokage and to Senju Tsunade, before helping Sasuke up and curtly ordering Naruto to follow. He tells the students to behave and to wait for his fellow teacher and escorts the two children to his office.

When the Hokage and Senju Tsunade arrive, he explains what he had seen from the two boys, and shivers when the woman’s hazel eyes burn with anger at the treatment of her son. She turns to the demon, because in her eyes, the blond-haired boy was not a child, but a monster, and is about to yell at him when the Hokage kneels in front of the boy.

A sigh leaves his chest as he looks at the child, at the boy he thought of as a son, and his heart aches. If he did not know about the Kyuubi, he would have marveled at Naruto’s ethereal beauty. With golden sun hair and cloudless blue eyes, Naruto is a painting of a freedom under wings and a new day, and he wonders if that is one reason why the villagers hated Naruto so much. They must think that his otherworldly beauty was a ruse to lure them into Naruto’s clawed hands.

“Naruto, why did you hurt Sasuke-kun?” he questions, ignoring the fury of a mother burning bright behind him. Naruto tilts his head, unable to understand why he was being questioned.

“He was about to punch me,” Naruto replies honestly, watching hazel eyes turn wide at his statement and gain a tinge of confusion as Tsunade turns to look at her son.

“Is that true, Sasuke?” she gently asks the boy, her eyes drifting to the hand broken by the blond child. She reaches out, heals it with a touch, before sending a spike of chakra to heal the bruised trachea, and a soft sigh of relief leaves her son.

A petulant frown plays on his lips, and Tsunade feels the beginning of a headache blooming behind her temples.

“He was ordering me around, telling me to get out of my seat!” Sasuke confides in her, his voice young and Tsunade is hard-pressed to keep the smile off her face at Sasuke’s childishness. After the massacre, her little Sasuke had grown so much and had retained only a sliver of his youth. She had worked tirelessly day after day to cultivate what little innocence the boy had, and each act of childishness soothed her weary heart like a balm. She adopts a displeased expression however, because needless violence was not what she had taught her child.

“Sasuke, that is not a reason to hurt others,” she lectures, foot tapping an irritated beat against the tiles. “Apologize to Uzumaki right now,” she tells him, lips twisted in distaste at the thought of her boy interacting with the other, the boy that reminded her so much like her teammate-turned-traitor.

Hiruzen frowns at her, recognizing the revulsion in her eyes as she looks at the blond child, and places a comforting hand on Naruto’s shoulder.

“Why?”

The question startles her, and she looks at the boy. Naruto sits elegantly, his body graceful even in stillness. He looks so innocent and curious at the question, that Tsunade’s loathing falters for a second.

“You hate me and yet, you’re making your son apologize. Why?”

The Hokage answers for her, the frown still evident on his face, “Because Tsunade wants her son to understand that hurting others for petty reasons is not right.”

A small frown blooms on Naruto’s face, the confusion evident in his icy blue eyes. He turns and observes her. There must be something on her face that makes the boy’s confusion fade into disinterest, and Tsunade feels her hackles raise as he dismisses her casually.

Naruto turns to the old man and thinks of their conversation last night, of the frown on the Hokage’s mouth as Naruto assured the man of the death of anyone who hurt him. Naruto mulls over the man’s words, and thinks of what to say to erase the frown on the man’s face. He settles with this.

“At least I didn’t kill him,” he says honestly, and he watches the frown smooth off the man’s face and a laugh blossom in the man’s chest.

Hiruzen chuckles, ignoring the gasp of fear coming from the teacher and the furious exclamations coming from the mother, and pats Naruto’s hair gently, as he had done countless times over the past four years.

“Thank you, Naruto,” he murmurs to the boy, and smiles, knowing that Naruto had not killed for him.

A horrible smile pulls apart Naruto’s lips, as if each corner had been tied to a string and pulled by a puppeteer. The man smiles wider, encouraging Naruto’s attempt at mimicking the expression, and nods to the teacher. He tells Sasuke and Naruto to return to the classroom and to behave, garnering a sullen nod from the former Uchiha and a blank stare from his boy. The teacher follows unwillingly after a pointed look from him, and the Hokage waits for Tsunade’s imminent explosion.

“At least I didn’t kill him?” she repeats with a tinge of hysteria, her hands trembling. Tsunade had always been a brawns-type of child, like a dog pulling on its leash eager to hunt and hurt.

When Naruto had snapped four years ago, he had firmly ordered his beloved students to return. Orochimaru was lost, caught up in delusions of grandeur and immortality. Jiraiya was lost, chasing the echoes of his former students and sniffing around skirts and secrets. Tsunade was lost, but she had returned, eyes shadowed with emptiness and lips thrumming with sake. Her precious apprentice, Shizune, her last piece of Dan was _dead dead dead_ and there was nowhere else for her to run.

Only Tsunade had seen the carnage in the orphanage, aside from the Anbu who had guarded the bloodied scene. She took one look at the pictures of the report, pale and reminded of another, older man who she had trusted before he turned around and experimented on children. _Oh god_ , the children, she had murmured, before the bile rising up her throat finally made her heave.

It had taken her days to stop throwing up, and she had threatened to leave again, to abandon the Konoha that would protect a demon- _isn’t that right Sensei, you also protected Orochimaru that time, why is Konoha condoning this_ \- when she saw a kindred spirit in the last loyal Uchiha. Only then did she calm down and decide to settle her roots in Konoha, albeit warily.

He sighs and tries to placate her, knowing that she would not listen, not after everyone she loved was dead, and not when her child had been so close to joining them.

“He has not grown in a safe environment,” he starts, hands raised helplessly at his side, “he has been abused and beaten and neglected, and he learned to fend for himself.”

A hand slams against the teacher’s desk, splintering the wood and breaking it into two.

“That is no excuse to murder a child for throwing a punch!” she yells, her heart drumming out an angry beat layered with worry. “He is dangerous, Hiruzen! How can you even put him in the academy with other children, where he could snap anytime and kill-”

He cuts her off, blood roaring in his ears as his eyes grow glacial with fury.

“Not another word out of you, Tsunade,” he says coldly, “not another word. I will not have you and your prejudice badmouth the child.”

A sneer dances on the woman’s face, turning her beauty grotesque with contempt and disgust.

“He’s not a child, there’s nothing left of Minato and Kushina in him. He’s just another demon clad in flesh, just like your precious Orochimaru-” she scorns, before she coughs and falls to ground, her hands automatically clutching her gut.

Hiruzen stands tall, his fist still clenched from the punch he had thrown. With the callous eyes of a Hokage, he stares at the woman who had once been his student.

“You will not speak to Naruto. You will stay away from him, and keep your mouth shut about him. If I find out that you disobeyed my direct order I will punish you myself,” he snarls, before leaving her on the cold floor.

* * *

In the classroom, Naruto sits quietly on the seat he had won from Sasuke, the boy sitting sullenly beside him. Naruto wonders why the other boy did not hate him, did not feel the same aversion and fear their classmates had thrumming in their veins.

He wonders if it is because Sasuke was a predator, just like him. He wonders if Sasuke is a demon, too, and he eyes the other boy in interest. The Kyuubi snorts at the thought and curls up, muttering derogatory remarks about Uchiha under his breath.

Obsidian eyes meet his, and Sasuke narrows his eyes at him. The boy leans closer, and under the cover of their teacher’s voice, whispers to Naruto.

“You may have beat me a while ago, but I’ll beat you next time, just you wait,” the boy mutters, cheeks flushed and brows furrowed. Naruto shrugs at the declaration, knowing for certain that a mortal can never beat a demon, and feels a sad sort of pity for the determined boy.

* * *

The next morning, the Hokage finds Naruto dressed, this time in a pale light green kimono with pine, bamboo, and plum criss-crossing and dotting the edges of the silk. He takes a moment, standing at the edge of the barrier, and watches as Naruto looks up and steps off the engawa to meet him.

His heart clenches, and Hiruzen mourns.

As a shinobi, he has always been willing to sacrifice himself for the betterment of Konoha. As a Hokage, he has sacrificed something greater; his thoughts flit towards his eldest, bones buried, his wife, ashes spread, his youngest son, eyes turning westward to the Daimyo Capital and all but abandoning their village. He thinks of his grandson, cheeks flushed with anger and stained with lonely tears.

He watches Naruto, balancing easily on his geta as if he has been walking in them for all his life, blonde-silk hair fluttering in the easy morning dew, and his heart clenches.

Konoha has taken everything from him- his clan, his family, his successor, his students- but he will make sure Konoha does not do the same to the boy in front of him.

* * *

When he enters the classroom, the air sharpens to tangible serrated fear. The eyes of the children, especially the civilian-born, are wide with fear and hatred. The Kyuubi growls gutterly, excitedly, and Naruto bites back a sigh as he curls his fingers around heated claws.

(“Calm, Kurama, we cannot kill them,” he says a bit sadly, and the fox sniffs.

“They wouldn’t make a good meal anyways, weak as they are,” it replies, and Naruto buries his face in red red fur and grins.)

He takes his seat, and tilts his head when he spots Senju Sasuke sitting already in the seat beside him. The boy glances at him, fingers fiddling with a blunted kunai, before huffing, his lips twitching.

“You’re the only other strong person in this class, aside from me. Deal with it, at least until I beat you fair and square,” the Senju says lowly, before falling silent as class begins.

Naruto blinks, nonplussed.

In the other corner of the room, brown eyes watch the scene curiously from behind his crossed arms.

* * *

During Naruto’s second week in the Academy, they are brought out to the open field for taijutsu practice. The teacher warily glares at Naruto, who had not had any more violent incidents since the first day, before teaching the children basic katas. After an hour, he orders the students to pair up.

A fast crowd forms around the young Senju, boys and girls alike clamoring to be his partner. Sasuke, used to the attention his name and his strength gave him, ignores them with practiced ease and frowns at Naruto.

The young blond is standing quietly to the side, blue eyes glazed and focused on something Sasuke knows no one can see. Sasuke thinks that the boy is not at all there in the head, with the empty look in his diamond-cold eyes and the facial twitches that made the rest of his classmates flinch away in horror. Sasuke had watched the way the boy had painstakingly raised the corners of his lips, as if he did not know how to smile and had only learned from mimicking others. It was disturbing, but also kind of sad to watch.

He had heard from the muttered whispers of the adults when school had let out, their glares focused on the blond boy. They had called him demon and monster and angrily questioned the Hokage’s decision to send the boy into the academy. They had hissed that the boy should just die and leave them alone, and Sasuke had stopped listening then, his stomach rolling in sick.

His mother had spirited him away quickly, and when they had reached their home, had told him to stay away from the boy.

Sasuke wondered why his mother had used “boy” instead of Naruto’s name, and he had wondered why his mother’s lips had twisted in revulsion at the word, as if Naruto did not deserve the kindness of the word “boy”. Sasuke had wondered whether the same, ugly words the adults had whispered about Naruto were locked behind his mother’s mouth, and had wondered if the woman had meant to say demon instead.

Sasuke was many things, but he was not a blind follower. He had followed his kind brother almost all his life, the brother who people praised as a prodigy and gentle soul, and look at how that turned out. Sasuke prefered people who were upfront, callous, and brutally honest.

 _That_ , that he can trust.

He walks quickly away from the crowd, silencing their complaints when he steps to Naruto’s side. With black eyes, he watches as Naruto pulls himself from whatever thought he had been mulling over and frowns when the blonde doesn’t even startle.

“Be my partner,” Sasuke says then, watching as sky-blue eyes turn into a curious shade. He revels in the feeling of being able to inflict emotions in the otherwise stoic boy, and reaches down to grab the boy’s hand.

The muscles in the other boy’s hand are tense, and Sasuke presses his lips together at the feeling of hot chakra twirling lazily underneath Naruto’s skin. He stays silent and leads Naruto to the corner of the field, ignoring the slow burning of his hand.

“I already know this.”

Naruto startles Sasuke, not with the words, but with the mere fact that he had spoken. Naruto had been silent throughout the weeks, since the teachers had never called on him to answer. He had rarely replied to Sasuke’s increasingly one-sided conversations, and had never offered an opinion to anything.

Sasuke counts it as a victory.

“So do I, my mother taught me this already,” he confesses, “but we should still practice so we will get better.”

Naruto shrugs, and falls into a graceful stance. Naruto’s kimono, a shimmering twilight blue with pale hydrangeas unfurling across the silk this time, parts elegantly around his leg and falls away from his wrists. It is unlike the basic katas that the teacher had taught them, and Sasuke feels his mouth dry at Naruto’s form. Blue eyes- as blue as a clear sky- and silken gold hair glint under the sun, and Naruto turns to look at him questioningly.

Sasuke clears his throat and tugs at the collar of his shirt that had suddenly gotten tight.

“What taijutsu style is that? That’s not the basic one,” and that is all he can get out of his mouth that has turned into a desert.

Blue eyes turn wicked, and for a moment Naruto looks alive.

“It’s the Kitsuneken,” he replies, and Sasuke has to look away from the blinding beauty in Naruto’s face.

“Fox Fist, huh,” he translates, scratching the back of his neck as he avoids the boy’s eyes. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

Naruto hums, and straightens. Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief and is finally able to look at Naruto without that constricted feeling in his chest. He wonders if he is falling ill.

“Of course you haven’t,” Naruto then says, and before Sasuke can argue with him about the arrogant statement, the other boy continues, “because I made it.”

* * *

The Hokage still comes every night, even when he escorts Naruto to and from the Academy, and he holds Naruto quietly before asking him how his day was. Naruto won’t ever say it out loud, but the routine calms his nerves and he feels the scratching anger in his belly settle.

Naruto shrugs and tells the Hokage how Sasuke had acted when he had shown the boy the taijutsu style he had created, and the Hokage frowns at that. He knows that the style was based on the gentle and mischievous dance of foxes, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine where Naruto had gotten his inspiration. The man wonders if Tsunade had told her child about the Kyuubi, and resolves to keep a closer eye on the Senju child. He had made Naruto’s status as an S-rank secret, and so far no one had had to be executed.

Hiruzen wonders if the Senju mother would be the first.

* * *

Between classes and silences interrupted by Sasuke’s rough comments, Naruto settles into the rhythm of the Academy. The teachings of Konoha’s illustrious history and the proper angle to throw shuriken lulls him into a stupor, so it takes him a second to react when Sasuke turns to him, black eyes glittering as he asks if he is related to the Hokage.

He blinks, thrown.

Sasuke rolls his eyes and twists in his seat, but does not repeat his question. There is a pause, between them, the noise of their classmates filtering in and out of Naruto’s senses as they wait for their next class to begin.

Instinctively, Naruto catches the reflexive _otou-san_ with his claws, hoarding the word and cradling it by his chest like it is priceless. With the word removed from his tongue, Naruto startles.

He had not thought of how the Hokage was related to him; he merely trusted the man as much as he could ever trust another because of how he treated him. It was fact, he thinks dazedly, like how the sky is blue, and grass is green, and the Hokage, no matter his loyalty to the village, would not harm him.

Naruto had never thought, never questioned _why_.

(The fox demon watches and closes its ancient eyes.)

The silence festers, and he looks away. “No.”

The boy’s obsidian gaze watches him, before Sasuke bites his lip and turns back to face the board.

* * *

When Naruto has been in the Academy for a month, with no further incidents, the Hokage pulls him into his lap and sighs. Without meaning to, Naruto stiffens in the hold and peeks at the man warily.

There is a careful sort of smile on the man’s face. “You’ve been doing well in the Academy.”

Naruto waits, because the Hokage has never been one to mince words.

“I won’t be able to accompany you home anymore.” Here the man sighs, and the sound is almost heartfelt. “I’ve been putting off certain paperwork, and now it’s caught up to me. I trust you’ll be able to make your way home on your own.”

He pauses, before nodding.

They both do not mention the Anbu squad that shadows his every movement once he steps foot outside the clearing.

* * *

Naruto does not remember when the easy silence between them has begun to teeter unsteadily, as if on the edge of collapse.

* * *

November falls, and with it chilly December air wraps icicles around the children’s ankles as they stand on the field outside for Taijutsu and Aiming practicals. The trees surrounding the clearing bear the loud echoes of the voices of the shinobi-hopefuls, as the children giggle and practice their katas sloppily.

Naruto and Sasuke stand by the side, the sight so common now that no one ever protests anymore at their assumed friendship. Sasuke knows, however, that the relationship between them wasn’t wrought of companionship, but of boredom and irritation with their classmates on the other boy’s part.

And as jet black eyes survey their peers laugh and frolic in the cool air, Sasuke thinks that Naruto isn’t wrong to think of their classmates as foolish children.

From a young age, he had been brought up knowing exactly what his status in life was- as the spare to the genius heir Itachi. A spare to the heir, but still of a high rank considering his clan. The Uchiha had been a proud, proud clan that desired more than the status quo. They desired, driving their clan to madness and extinction as they forced their children to grow faster, hit harder, achieve better. One only needed to look at their precious heir, the one the elders and his dead father had placed their weighty ambitions, and see how their expectations broke his brother’s mind beyond repair.

Even as the spare, he had little to no childhood, his early years spent twirling kunai and practicing hand signs. Sasuke remembers the dust of the Uchiha’s training ground, stained with his blood, the nights that extended to years hiding behind flimsy shoji walls as his father raged and his mother wept, the empty look in his brother’s eyes as the elders clapped his shoulders with more and more and _more_ -

Well, no one could blame how Sasuke felt hate fester at the easy way the children around them played.

The practicals consist of two parts. The first part tests their aim and execution with kunai and shuriken. Both Naruto and Sasuke had passed the test easily with perfect scores, though it was clear that Naruto had been irked by the simple exam. The frown on the whiskered face had been etched so deeply as Naruto had flicked the dull projectiles lazily towards the target with blindingly fast accuracy.

In order to test their strength and mastery of the academy-taught katas, they also had to spar with their teacher and try to sweep the man’s feet from under him. Clan children and those who had masters could utilize whatever style they had been privately instructed in. As an honorary Senju, Tsunade had roughly taught him how to enhance his strength with chakra, turning a soft tap into a devastating force that left broken bones and craters in its wake.

When his turn comes, their teacher grimaces and reinforces his body with a covering of chakra to protect his organs. Sasuke smiles viciously and with a healthy amount of pleased arrogance, and attacks. As a chunin, the man does not go down, but Sasuke is the closest to down their teacher. Happiness blossoms on his cheeks and the flush of pride warms his chilled frame.

He settles, content, beside Naruto, and waits for their teacher to reach the end of Us in their class.

Naruto rises, silent as he has always been, when the teacher calls out his clan name like it was a curse. Sasuke spares the man a small glare at that, because Naruto never defended himself against the anger and hatred of the adults that Sasuke thinks is so misplaced. Naruto was just a small boy, even smaller than Sasuke, and while he was strong and smart and a bit cruel, there was nothing in the boy that screamed _demon_.

The class quells their noise when the boy steps into the circle, fear and eager curiosity swimming in their youthful faces. They still remembered the easy way Naruto had crushed the bones in Sasuke’s hand, and the unnatural ease Naruto had displayed as he lifted Sasuke by the throat. Sasuke was a head taller than the boy and had more meat on his bones, and it would have been funny to see Naruto, small, delicate Naruto dressed like a spirit or a faerie, lifting Sasuke up higher than his head if it wasn’t so frightening.

Naruto sighs at the waves of malicious intent crashing against his skin like waves breaking on coarse sand. The teacher had been unsettled all month, as he had grown suspicious of Naruto’s continued silence. The man’s negative emotions had been slowly building, stewing in his chest and reaching out to brush against Naruto’s throat like an angry lover’s caress.

It had been a trying month, with Naruto himself trembling to attack the man and kill him before he attacked him, but he remembers the conversation in the teacher’s office on his first day.

The Hokage had said that Tsunade believed that hurting others for petty reasons was wrong, and the frown on the Hokage’s face when Naruto had said he would kill anyone who tried to hurt him had meant that he agreed with the woman’s words. And then he remembers the blinding smile on the Hokage’s face when Naruto had said that he had left Sasuke alive, and he unwillingly silences the demands of the Kyuubi for the man’s blood on his lips.

He drops into his starting stance, arms extended just below his suddenly deep blue eyes and fingers sharpening into claws. A sharp intake of air sounds behind him, and Naruto almost rolls his eyes at Sasuke’s reaction. The black-haired boy had always reacted strangely at his Fox Fist style and after a few weeks, Naruto had dismissed it as an idiosyncrasy of Sasuke’s.

The spar is chillingly easy, with Naruto carelessly batting away the teacher’s fists and kicks. The man’s hatred increases tenfold, and a sigh dances on Naruto’s lips. The constant thrum of fury is starting to wear him down, and he wonders if he should tell the Hokage about the man before he accidentally tears the teacher’s head off.

With that pleasant image dripping behind his half-lidded eyes, he reaches beyond the teacher’s guard and grips the man’s collar. Easily, he slams the man face down on the ground, knee digging into the chunin’s back and fingers loosely circling a fragile throat.

Silence abounds in the training ground, and in the corner of diamond eyes, Naruto sees the dull shine of Anbu tanto.

(The Kyuubi growls.

“As if they can stop you from squashing this mortal like a bug beneath our feet,” it laughs.

Naruto bites his lip to stop his own amusement from tumbling out his mouth, and silently agrees.)

“Yield,” he tells the man struggling under him, unable to break the grapple hold he has on the man’s jugular.

Red- like the blood swirling under the man’s fragile skin- blotches the man’s cheeks as he glares with soul-searing fury.

Pointed fingers sharpen slightly, and Naruto runs his tongue over his stinging teeth and gums. His jaw trembles. He wants nothing more than to lean down and catch the man’s neck with his mouth, but the acidic taste of the five Anbu waiting in the wings brings him back from the brink of mindless hunger.

“... I yield,” the man beneath him says, spitting the words out furiously even as his wrath morphs into fear.

Immediately, Naruto lets go of the man and hides his clawed fingers in the sleeves of his kimono. He makes his way to Sasuke’s side, and sinks into half-meditation, only relaxing when fox tails curl around his waist and neck in a loose embrace.

* * *

He wanders, after class. He walks in a daze, starvation that had been chafing against his control drawing his feet further away from his home. He, more than he can see, can feel the wariness in the Anbu squad hidden in the steadily lengthening shadows around him. Their fingers flicker quickly through signs, and if the haze of gluttony was not binding his tongue, a laugh might have escaped him as they become progressively more and more rattled.

His senses lead him deeper into a filthy district of the village, red lights enhancing the kohl around the eyes of scantily-clad women and dipping into the scars of roughed men. No one stops him here, but fierce gazes follow his form as he absently walks past.

There are voices, loud enough to drown the steady pounding of his heart, in his head, and it reaches a startling peak when he steps into a dark alley. The air here is different, oozing slime and grunge that clings in his ears and tongue. His keen nose picks up the smell of alcohol and vengeance, and he shifts carelessly on his feet to avoid the swipe of a kunai that would have taken his head off.

From the corner of his sight, he watches boredly as a nameless shinobi snarls at his easy evasion. The man’s malice reaches a crescendo, and the man’s eyes gain a fanatical tint as he rushes forward.

“Die, demon!” he growls.

And as always, the lazy pulsation of Naruto’s blood red chakra erupts into an inferno at the presumptuousness of mortals who thought they could hurt him. Hunger, white hot and aching, swims in his veins and his belly laughs at the thought of _eating_ again. Finally, he thinks. He had spent the whole day curled around serrated teeth, unwilling to chance snapping and killing the children at the Academy after his spar with the furious chunin sensei.

But now, even when Naruto had just begun hunting, already, a willing meal approaches.

(The Kyuubi grins and rears up, tails flicking angrily and teeth glinting.

“Kill him, my sweet, let me taste the blood of those who dare harm us,” the fox croons in his ears, and Naruto curls his fingers in the Kyuubi’s red fur in acquiescence.)

With the ease of one who had all the time in the world, Naruto twists to appear behind the man, before gripping his nape and smiling with sharp, hungry teeth.  
  
「“Thank you for the meal,” he says, as the Hokage had drilled manners in him during his four-year seclusion, and he rests his chin on the man’s taller shoulder and bites into a soft throat. Blood, warm red liquid life, spurts out and splashes against Naruto’s cheek and fingers as if it longed for the contact. Naruto sighs happily before digging claws into the man’s other shoulder and waist to prevent his escape. A gurgle escapes the man, instinctively trying to dislodge Naruto’s teeth from his jugular.

A laugh finally rumbles in Naruto, content, and he pats the man’s cheek before the man’s head falls to the ground with a squelching thump. It rolls wetly in the alley until it bumps against a grimy wall.

The body buckles, and Naruto carefully sits down and drags his prize onto his lap. The unbalanced feeling and the red haze he had been feeling all day had faded as quickly as it had come when the man had fallen dead, leaving a slight buzzing as the hunger of a thousand demons burned pleasantly in his veins.

Without further ado, he slurps up the leaking life-blood, still warm and sluggish, and tears flesh off bones.

A muffled moan escapes him. The man’s flesh is tough, hardened by muscle and tasting faintly like sake. Red eyes flutter, and Naruto swallows gleefully, intoxicated.」

(In the back of his mind, the fox chants a mantra, breath quivering in its gigantic chest as it watches intently as Naruto swallows.

“More, my sweet, devour as much as you can, eat this banquet and waste not,” it whispers feverishly, and Naruto is nothing if obedient to his beloved Kurama.)

He feels one Anbu break from formation, speeding quickly away from the alley, and Naruto moans giddily once more when the Kyuubi murmurs how it will be too late to stop his feast.

Naruto has waited four years for this meal- _no more_.

He is chewing on delicate finger bones when the Anbu who had left returns, another Anbu in its wake. This Anbu is different. Even distracted as he was with his meal, the abhorrent disgust and fear from the remaining Anbu had lapped at his skin like waves against the shore.

This Anbu feels different.

His mask, the red brushstrokes dull against the porcelain, shifts as he takes in the ripped, discarded clothing on the ground soaking up the spilled blood and half-mauled intestines of the man. Carefully, as one would approach a feral animal, he lowers himself on his haunches and tilts his head.

Under the moonlight, the Anbu’s silver hair glints like the tanto in the other Anbus’ hands and shines like the sadness steeping in his veins.

This Anbu smells different, because there is no fear lurking in his eyes. Instead, one black eye watches him with regret even as he speaks to him in a low, stilted tone.

“Will you continue, Uzumaki Naruto, and lure more shinobi to feed on?” he asks, formal and distant for all that the desperation and guilt in his gaze is not.

Naruto wonders at that, at the obvious unhappiness of the Anbu, as if he was responsible for Naruto’s current predicament. He turns to look at the Kyuubi, but the fox has already shifted its face away, clearly unwilling to talk.

His jaw clenches, before he looks down at the mangled bones left on his lap. Sighing, he pushes them off and stands, the ouroboros pattern on his kimono stained and dripping the nameless shinobi’s blood. He looks up at the silver-haired Anbu, and raises his arms absently towards him.

They both ignore the tensing of the other Anbu, and the silver-haired Anbu darts forward without hesitation and takes him into his arms.

Naruto curls his fingers in the man’s vest, and the Anbu carries him swiftly to the edge of his clearing where the Hokage is a solitary statue standing in front of his house.

There is weariness in the lines of the Hokage’s face as he rushes to take Naruto from the Anbu’s arms. He dismisses the Anbu after a series of hand gestures between them and carries Naruto inside.

When Naruto is bathed and dressed in a thin black kimono, the Hokage tucks him in. From the light of the moon from the open shoji doors of his bedroom, the shadows run across the planes of his face. The lines on his face are so worn, like trenches in war. Carrying the weight of the village has robbed the man of his younger years, chasing the man to his death.

The Hokage sighs, and the breath is so slow and deep that it feels like the earth below them is sighing with him.

“Will you do it again, Naruto? I would really rather you didn’t,” the man says, his voice a wisp, his eyes closed, and a dull pang in his lungs settles on Naruto’s chest like mourning bells.

(“It may seem as if we are at his mercy, my Naruto, but never worry. I will slaughter those who seek us harm. Even if you would not,” the Kyuubi sighs with a grunt. Its soft tone is at odds with the burning, furious heat beginning to scorch the tips of soft blonde hair.

Naruto looks up at the Kyuubi, the fox’s words barely heard over the pain in his aching chest. He has not felt anything like this before, and he stumbles forward to bury his twisted face in red fur.

“... Kurama, what is happening to me? What is this, Kurama? Can you fix me?” he murmurs, fingers sharpening into claws to clutch at his chest.

A large snout noses at the boy’s hair, and with serrated teeth nibbling at his ear, the Kyuubi answers.

“This is betrayal, my sweet sacrifice. You trusted him, and yet. You know he is the Hokage, and he is responsible for far more than just your well-being.”

Naruto parts his lips to answer, before closing them. There is a lump in his throat.

The Kyuubi watches him, like it has since the very beginning, and grins.)

There are no voices rasping in his mind- the Hokage holds no anger or ill will against him.

A breath rushes out of him. But the ache in his chest is slow to dissipate, and his fingers twitch briefly into claws under the sheets. Red blue red eyes watch the exhausted face of the Hokage, the strongest man in the village, and the Kyuubi nudges its snout against his cheek. Naruto leans into the touch, and the ache in his chest stays and stays, and settles in the pit of his belly.

After all, betrayal does not need anger.

 _Otou-san_ , he thinks, mouths, and when the Hokage looks at him, Naruto locks away that bitter word forever.

“Why,” he asks, just a shade sour, “why can’t I defend myself against those who wish me harm? Should I just stand there and let them tear open my skin and break my bones? Am I to suffer famine when I can just as easily eat?”

It is the longest that he has spoken to the Hokage, and he watches as tears gleam in the man’s eyes.

The Hokage bows against the weight of his words. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Come here child.”

And Naruto falls into the routine. He sits forward, sheets pooling against his waist, and buries his face in the man’s shoulder. Strong arms wrap around him, and he feels rather than hears the sigh leaving the man’s chest.

The Kyuubi watches them, rage and pity brewing between its teeth.

When Naruto pulls back to look at the Hokage, there is a sorrowful look painting shadows under the man’s eyes. With a start, Naruto realizes what it means to be Hokage, and what it means to be a father. There is an insurmountable distance between the two, and finally, finally, when the man speaks,

he realizes why the Hokage can never be his father.

The man’s eyes harden, and he nods decisively.

“It seems the shinobi you had killed was a chunin. He will not be missed. I will handle the elders. You are, after all, our most promising shinobi in the making. A few concessions here and there, and a few low-ranking shinobi dead by your hands will not cripple our forces.”

Naruto looks at him as he has never seen the man before. He realizes that the Hokage will spin this as a small compromise for a loyal, deadly Jinchuuriki. After all, Konohagakure no Sato is a military dictatorship. What’s a few lives for a demon clad in golden-red skin?

(There is worry brewing in fox red eyes, and its words hover in the gulf between them-

 _betrayal betrayal betrayal_ -)

He thinks of evenings curled up in the Hokage’s lap, listening to the smooth cadence of the man’s voice as he spins stories of Konoha. He thinks of gifts wrapped in memories, in affection meant to bind him, tie him to the man in front of him. He thinks of a hand outstretched, pulling him from the pool of visceral sinew and bones in the orphanage and into a calm, beautiful prison locked away behind seals and chakra.

He thinks of Sasuke, asking him if he is related to the Hokage, and he swallows roughly.

For a moment, the chasm between Hokage and father wavers as the man’s face twists in anguish. Then his face smooths, and he sighs yet again.

Before the Hokage leaves, he murmurs promises into fine blonde hair.

“As long as you do not kill any shinobi of the rank jounin or higher, you can do whatever you wish. I may not be able to give you the childhood you deserve, my sweet child, but I will protect you for as long as there is breath in my body.”

Naruto observes the promise, twists it in his mind, and nods.

Yes, Konoha is not wrong to chain him like this, to loop a noose born out of care and affection around his neck, but they need not worry about his loyalty. All Naruto wants is to bite and tear and kill. And as long as they provide him with a target, he will leave destruction in his wake and dedicate it to their name.

He is the Kyuubi’s, and the Kyuubi is his, and when Konoha withers and fades to dust, he will continue on and bathe in blood.

Red red red red red laughter curls up around him, entwining through his fingers and hair, and he eyes the weary expression on the Hokage’s (not otou-san, _never again_ ) face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I was so so touched with all the comments. You guys are so sweet, so here's an extra-long chapter! And since it seemed that the symbolism of the kimonos was well-received last time, here's some more ^^
> 
> The color red denotes strength, passion, and self-sacrifice. Known as a sacred color, red represents life's vitals: the dawn, fire, and blood. Since Naruto wore this during his first day at the Academy, he is *unconsciously* alluding to Hiruzen's “Happy birthday, Naruto. Konoha will be ever so grateful for your sacrifice.” It's the start of the fracturing of Naruto's worldview! (I'm sorry, it had to be done.)
> 
> On Naruto's second day, he wore a green kimono. Green represents youth, eternity, vitality, and energy. It is restful and fresh. He might have started the Academy on the wrong foot, but he will continue and persevere. This is tied in with the pine, bamboo, and plum design of the kimono, which signifies being faithful to one’s principles even in difficult times.
> 
> During Sasuke and Naruto's taijutsu practice, Naruto boasts a twilight blue kimono with hydrangeas. As blue mirrors the color of the life-giving oceans surrounding Japan it is thought to symbolize peace, stability, and security. Since Naruto is sorta settling in the Academy, his life is stabilizing, somewhat. And the flowers symbolize heartfelt emotions. Unfortunately, in its negative sense, it symbolizes heartlessness and rigidity. So the relationship between Naruto and Sasuke isn't quite there yet; it can be great or go really, really bad really fast. Hooray for slow burn!
> 
> On the day that Naruto snaps, his kimono has an ouroboros pattern. This isn't really Japanese- it's from Ancient Greece. Basically it's a snake eating its tail, hinting at the cyclical nature of life, and how we are constantly "consuming" and recreating ourselves. It is a symbol of beginnings and endings, all in one neat pattern. Just like how this is the start and end of Naruto's easy and *chill* life.
> 
> The last kimono mentioned is the black one Naruto wears during his talk with the Hokage. It mainly denotes non-being, mystery, night, and anger. Black is also the color of mourning. It hurt to twist their relationship, especially since they are both lonely souls ; _ ; but sometimes duty trumps relationships. Naruto and Hiruzen are not only Naruto and Hiruzen; they are the Jinchuuriki and Sandaime Hokage of Konohagakure no Sato as well.
> 
> And with that, I'm off. Next chapter, Naruto meets more people (ohoho) and the Hokage deals with his shinobi.


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